


FIC: Sibling Rivalry

by trancer



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark, F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-15
Updated: 2010-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-17 23:47:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trancer/pseuds/trancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU - They are all Sisters. They are all rivals and not all Sisters are created equal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	FIC: Sibling Rivalry

“Cara..” Dahlia pants heavily, lids fluttering wildly as her eyes roll into the back of her head.

Her back’s to a wall. Belt undone. The laces of her leathers loosened just a little, just enough. Cara’s pressed against her, lips and teeth working in tandem at bruising Dahlia’s neck. One leg draped over Cara’s hip and Cara’s two fingers deep. It’s hard and fast and those fingers have Dahlia writhing and wailing, screams echoing off the temple walls.

“Sister Dahlia!”

Dahlia freezes at the sound of her name spoken harshly. Cara growls possessively, pumps her fingers a little harder because she’s not done. She doesn’t appreciate the interruption. She doesn’t *like* who’s doing the interrupting.

“SISTER CARA!”

There’s no ignoring this now. Dahlia mewls, eyelids fluttering at the sudden and harsh withdrawing of Cara’s fingers. And Cara’s turning towards the interloper, slicked fingers gripping the hilt of her Agiel.

“Sister Kahlan,” Cara grits back.

Kahlan, hand on the hilt of her own Agiel, stalks forward, her eyes glued to Dahlia. “Dahlia, my quarters. NOW!”

Dahlia does nothing more than nod, refastening her belt, not bothering with her loosened laces. She dares a glance at Cara as she hurries down the hall, both Kahlan and Cara watching her as she disappears around a corner.

And Kahlan’s turning her eyes back to Cara. Cara tilts her head up, meeting Kahlan’s harsh gaze, not backing down.

“You,” Kahlan begins to circle threateningly. “Have a hard time keeping your hands off things that are not yours. Things that are mine.”

“And you,” Cara sneers back. “Have a hard time remembering we are Mord’Sith. We have no things that are called ‘ours’ or ‘mine’, it is all Lord Rahl’s.”

“You speak for Lord Rahl, now?” Kahlan grins, watching Cara’s lips purse tighter as she twitches. “I don’t recall Lord Rahl rescinding his order that I could have a pet.”

“She was mine first!” Cara spits defensively.

“She’s mine now!” Kahlan steps towards Cara and they’re toe to toe.

Cara lifts her head, juts out her chin, not backing down. “Not for long.”

Kahlan’s eyes are dark, seething. “We settle this. Today!”

“Bring it.”

**

They’d never met each other until the day they were both brought to the People’s Palace. The pride of both their temples, Kahlan from the north, Cara from the south. And since that first day, when they stood in formation ready to be greeted by Lord Rahl and Cara watched Kahlan’s eyes as Kahlan set her sights on Dahlia, they’ve been like oil and water ever since.

The Training Yard, where grievances between Sisters are settled and Cara and Kahlan circle each other like two big cats. There are no surprises. This isn’t the first time Cara and Kahlan have faced off to settle a grievance, their Sisters watching in the wings, placing bets on who will win this time.

Kahlan strikes first, rushing towards Cara, Agiel arcing as she swings her arm. Cara accepts the blow, turning into it and delivering one of her own.

The minutes stretch, turn to hours and still they battle, with split lips, bruising eyes and broken noses. The yard spattered with their spilled blood, neither advancing, neither yielding as if this battle is more than about a girl.

The sun sets. The crowd watching grows restless, they’ve seen it all before. Some begin to trickle away, preferring to hear of the results in the baths or at the table for evening meal than watch another evenly matched bout reach another stalemate of a conclusion.

Even if today is a little different than the ones before.

Cara and Kahlan rush towards each other, battle cries releasing from their lips. They crash together, Agiel to stomach, Agiel to breastbone. Neither advancing, neither withdrawing, eyes locked as they hiss at each other, accept the pain. Their bodies twitching and jerking as they both reach their limits..

And fall to the ground dead.

One of the older Sisters steps out onto the yard. She taps at one with the toe of her boot, then the other. “Someone revive them,” she sniffs derisively. “Then take them to the Pit.”

**

They awake like children at birth, screaming for air, screaming in pain as the Agiel’s strike them simultaneously. They are still inferior in the eyes of their elder Sisters, punished for the constant friction between them.

But even here in the pit, with the threat of permanent death, Cara and Kahlan refuse to yield. Staring at each other, the contest continues as both refuse to show weakness in front of the other.

**

Three days later, they walk side by side towards their own quarters. They are still pups in the eyes of their elder Sisters, just three years from having completed the final stage of their training. Though Cara still sleeps in the dormitory with the recruits, she’s earned her place here at the Palace. Her Sisters harbor no secret resentment towards her as they do Kahlan.

It’s that resentment that colors Cara’s eyes as she makes her way towards the dormitory and Kahlan continues on towards her own solitary quarters. Quarters given to Kahlan by Lord Rahl himself.

The dorm’s are empty, her Sisters down in the yard for their daily routines. And Cara, thinking herself alone, limps her way to the cot that is hers. Except, Cara’s not alone.

Dahlia rises quickly at the sound of Cara’s footsteps, her eyes wide and guilty, like she’d been caught, then just as quickly softening at the sight of Cara. She rushes around Cara’s cot, approaching Cara, gloved fingers tracing around the bruise on Cara’s face.

“Are you all right?” she asks.

“I’m Mord’Sith,” Cara snaps back, jerking her face from Dahlia’s touch. “I am pain.”

Immediately, Cara regrets it. Dahlia’s eyes fall as she lowers her head, turning her face from Cara. Cara brings her fingertips to the underside of Dahlia’s chin, lifting Dahlia’s face towards hers. “But, I appreciate the sentiment.”

Pink lips curl into a soft smile and Cara feels her chest squeeze in ways that feel both familiar and unnatural. But, it’s nothing compared to the familiar heat pulsing dully between her legs as Dahlia’s fingers begin working on the laces of Cara’s leathers.

“Dahlia,” Cara smiles. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the yard?”

Fingers already peeling the supple leather off Cara’s shoulders, Dahlia smiles back. “I am where I’m supposed to be.”

Body throbbing, the pain is irrelevant to the sudden rush of desire and arousal coursing through her system. Cara snakes her hand out, clasping Dahlia by the back of the neck and pulling her in. The kiss is hard and bruising, teeth clacking as Cara juts her tongue into Dahlia’s mouth, Dahlia already submitting to Cara’s touch.

Cara pushes, Dahlia walks backwards and just before they reach Cara’s cot, Dahlia twists the two around and it’s Cara flopping backwards on the bed. Dahlia hasn’t spent the past three days being mercilessly tortured and she uses it to her advantage. Cara’s a bit more malleable than she would normally be. She allows Dahlia to hurriedly strip her of her leathers. Allows herself to be the vulnerable one. The one who’s thighs are roughly spread open, knees raised, the backs of her thighs pinned.

It’s not gentle. Lips wrapped around Cara’s clit and Dahlia’s just _pulling_ , suckling, battering with her tongue. Three gloved fingers plunge deep into Cara, because it’s past midday and their Sisters will be done with their training soon and Dahlia doesn’t have the time to be a bit more leisurely. And Dahlia growls, Cara bucking at the sensation, as Cara threads her fingers into Dahlia’s hair, nails scraping against the scalp.

**

Kahlan enters her quarters, purses her lips. Her room is empty. She’d endured the torture, partly because she imagined Dahlia waiting in her quarters ready to lick Kahlan’s wounds. Surely, Dahlia would have known Kahlan’s time in the pit was over, slipped away from training with one excuse or another (Dahlia was always good at finding ways out of training).

Kahlan thinks about waiting. Kahlan’s never been good at waiting. She exits her quarters, turns a corner that takes her by the dormitories. A moan slows Kahlan’s steps to a crawl. The sound achingly familiar, a moan not of pain but pleasure.

It’s coming from the dormitory. Slipping the Agiel from its holster, Kahlan uses it to cautiously open the door. While she is respected by her Sisters, Kahlan knows that respect is begrudging. So, she uses her Agiel to open the door because she’d learned the hard way that it is better to be cautious than foolhardy.

She opens the door just a crack, just enough to peer inside. A sneer pulls her lips as she see Cara, in the position Cara’s meant to be - on her back, wailing, submitting like a whore. It pleases Kahlan to see Cara taken so wantonly by one of their Sisters. But who? Kahlan has to know, needs to know which one of her Sisters Cara submits to so easily.

With the barest nudge of her Agiel, the door opens a hair’s breadth wider. And there, between Cara’s raised legs, Kahlan sees the crown of a head, the curl of a braid, shoulders covered in red leather. Cara wails, tossing her head back. Fingers still obviously jutting roughly into Cara, the head between Cara’s legs lifts, visible through the tiny crack of the door.

And the self-satisfied expression on Kahlan’s face is instantly wiped away, replaced with a stony-faced shock, the slightest tinge of hurt. Kahlan steps back, unable to look anymore. She wraps her fingers around the hilt of her Agiel, letting the pain center her.

**

After walking the grounds for hours, Kahlan returns to her room. She’s halfway through removing her leathers when the door opens without a knock. There’s a sneer on Kahlan’s lips when she sees Dahlia standing in her room, closing the door behind her, a coy and conspiratorial look on her face.

“You weren’t at evening meal,” Dahlia says, hips swaying as she approaches Kahlan.

“Neither were you,” Kahlan responds, eyebrow rising on her forehead.

And Kahlan can’t keep the anger from darkening her eyes as Dahlia leans in, gloved hands on the swell of Kahlan’s hips. Because Kahlan’s not supposed to know. Not supposed to know how the strands on Dahlia’s head became loosened, or why the tips of her gloves are tacky wet, or notice the musky scent still clinging to her skin. Dahlia leans, brushes her lips against Kahlan’s and Kahlan can taste Cara still lingering on Dahlia’s tongue.

Whether the taste is real or imagined does not matter, Kahlan snaps. She grabs Dahlia by the straps of her collar, slams the woman against the wall. Surprised, taken off guard, Dahlia’s eyes glaze as the back of her head smacks against the wall. Kahlan attacks with her mouth, biting hard on the corner of Dahlia’s jaw. Her hands are already working on Dahlia’s belt, yanking and pulling.

Kahlan knows her ‘claim’ on Dahlia is tenuous, at best. She’s still just a pup in the eyes of her elder Sisters. And should one of her Mistresses, or even Lord Rahl himself claim Dahlia as her own, Kahlan would have no choice but to accept.

But, this isn’t about their elder Sisters or even Cara. It’s about Dahlia, what Kahlan knows and Dahlia doesn’t. Status or not, Dahlia is Kahlan’s, and Kahlan wants to make sure Dahlia knows this.

Three fingers and Kahlan pushes hard, fast, deep, watches as Dahlia’s unable to mask the pain coloring her eyes, mouth going slack as she cries out. Like she’s surprised at Kahlan’s _ferocity_.

Kahlan’s a Mord’Sith. She knows about pleasure and pain, the razor sharp tightrope between the two. She also knows Dahlia, has known her intimately since those first days when they both arrived at the People’s Palace.

She pushes and pulls, curled fingers rubbing her fingertips aggressively against that spot, Dahlia wailing and keening. And Kahlan doesn’t care if her Sisters hear, the question answered as to why the two have missed the evening meal. She wants them to hear. She wants Cara to hear.

Freehand slithering up Dahlia’s neck, Kahlan grabs Dahlia’s head by the base of the ponytail, nails scraping against the scalp as her fingers tighten.

“Who’s are you?” she growls into Dahlia’s ear, withdrawing her fingers and pressing them hard against Dahlia’s clit.

Dahlia winces, body shuddering and Kahlan stabs her fingers deep again.

“Who, Dahlia?”

Dahlia licks her lips, mouth trembling like she’s forgotten how to talk. “You are,” she finally croaks.

Growling in triumph, Kahlan curls her middle finger, presses it hard and Dahlia comes undone against her. She’s still trembling and shaking when Kahlan abruptly withdraws. One hand on Dahlia’s shoulder, the other around her waist, and Kahlan’s reversing them. Her back’s to the wall, hips jutting outwards and she’s shoving Dahlia to her knees, threading her fingers in Dahlia‘s hair.

Still dazed but understanding, Dahlia’s hands are quick, peeling down Kahlan’s leathers. And Kahlan’s eyes roll into the back of her head, a low purr rumbling up her throat as Dahlia dives in. Kahlan’s taste, once again, coating Dahlia’s tongue.

**

Cara presses her palms to the wall, nails scraping against the stone through her gloves. They were supposed to meet for evening meal. Instead, Cara’s outside Kahlan’s quarters, quelling every instinct telling her to rush into Kahlan’s room and take back what’s hers, just standing and listening as Dahlia pleasures Kahlan.

**

It’s dangerous, ordering the two Sisters assigned to remove their Mistress’s uniform away. But Kahlan dares the chance anyway. Kahlan knocks on the door. Hands clasped behind her back, she waits patiently. And waits. And waits. When the moment hits, her patience run thin, Kahlan lifts her fist to knock again.

“Enter.”

The room is bigger, more extravagant than Kahlan’s own quarters. A room befitting one of Lord Rahl’s favorites. Kahlan doesn’t concentrate on the luxuries around her. There are more important things to focus on.

Like her.

Her back’s turned to the door, both a sign of trust and dominance. She doesn’t need to fear who enters who quarters. One hand on her hip, fingers drumming as she downs the cup of wine in her other. Kahlan dares her eyes to admire the view.. while she can. Boots, thighs, ass, back, the splash of almost white cascading down her back.

“Mistress Denna,” Kahlan says.

There’s the slightest twitch in Denna’s back. She sets her cup down, turns, eyes narrowing. “Where are Sisters Hally and Constance?”

Kahlan swallows, suddenly nervous. This is bold, even for her. “I sent them away, Mistress.”

Denna’s eyes narrow even further as she breathes deeply through her nose. “I could have you whipped.”

“If you wish..” Kahlan bows her head. “Mistress.”

Denna rolls her lower lip into her mouth, sensing Kahlan‘s nervousness, the tinge of desperation. They know of each other but their interactions have been infrequent. Denna was always placed in charge of Cara’s training. Kahlan’s training, at the time left, to more trusted Sisters. And now, the wheels are turning in Denna’s mind, because Kahlan came to Denna instead of them.

She waves a hand. “No matter, you’re here now and I have no desire to wait for them to return.” She takes several steps forward then stops, eyes turning dark and heated. “You can undress me now.”

Denna watches as Kahlan quickly and nervously approaches. There’s no doubt the intimacy involved in removing a Mord’Sith’s leathers but it’s this moment Denna relishes the most - a Sister submissively lowering herself to her knees before her, hands on her boots. Denna shifts on the balls of her feet from the sudden hard pulse between her legs.

The silence between them is deafening, almost as palpable as the rising tension. Kahlan removes her gloves, begins removing Denna’s boots, Denna watching her like a hawk. One boot removed, then the other and just when Kahlan’s about to rise to her feet, Denna reaches down, fingertips under Kahlan’s chin and lifting.

“Why are you here?” Denna asks. A shiver running down her throat because Kahlan looks up at her and she just looks so _young_ , innocent. Vulnerable.

“I..” Kahlan stammers, darting her eyes. “I need your guidance, Mistress.”

The purr rising from Denna’s throat is almost menacing in tone because it’s taking everything she has not to grab her young Sister by the collar, throw her onto the bed, and ravish her into unconsciousness.

Kahlan has come to Denna for guidance. Denna. And Denna recognizes the moment for the opportunity it is. Kahlan is a rarity amongst the Mord’Sith, one raised almost since childbirth within the temples. Her father was a great General within Rahl’s Dragon Corp. Kahlan’s mother died in childbirth and her father, mortally wounded, returned to D’Hara with his only child before dying on the temple steps.

The Sisters wanted to kill the child, considering themselves warriors not nursemaids until word from Lord Rahl stayed their hands. If his favored General wanted his child to be raised as Mord’Sith then Rahl would not deny him his dying wish. Of course, that was the ‘official’ story but Denna had heard the rumors, the whispers amongst Rahl’s more favored Mord’Sith that Kahlan Amnell had Confessor’s blood running through her veins. Though her powers had yet to manifest themselves, Denna wondered, staring into those bright, blue eyes, if Sister Kahlan had one more secret left within her. She was raised by the best of the Mord’Sith and it would be *very* Mord’Sith to keep such a power hidden. Kahlan wasn’t just raised for greatness, some believed she was destined for it.

And now all that potential power, that greatness was, quite literally, under Denna’s fingertips.

“As you were,” Denna smiles, rising to her full height. Kahlan’s hands are strong, deft, easily remove Denna’s leathers despite performing the task alone. Although, there’s a bit of disappointment for Denna that Kahlan’s fingers don’t linger or caress with a questioning intent like her other Sisters. Denna sighs at Kahlan’s lack of initiative. “What would you like to ask me?”

They are intimately close, Kahlan working on the buckles of Denna’s corset. “It’s about Cara.. and Dahlia, Mistress.”

Denna chuckles as her corset falls to the floor. “Of course it is.” Kahlan’s eyes lift to Denna’s, brows crinkling in puzzlement. “I’m sure you’re aware of the many eyes watching the three of you. There’s not a day that goes by when one or all of you aren’t being discussed by your elder Sisters.” Denna turns her back to Kahlan, so the brunette can work on the laces. “And do you know who’s name is talked about the most?”

The corners of Kahlan’s lips twitch with the hint of a smile. “No, Mistress.”

Denna stays silent, turns back around so Kahlan can peel off her top. “Dahlia,” she says, watching blue eyes widen in a very un-Mord‘Sith like manner.

“I don’t understand,” Kahlan says, voice almost a whisper, wounded.

Denna’s not interested in the bruising of Kahlan’s ego. Her top removed, she flicks her eyes downwards because Kahlan’s stilled her fingers and Denna prefers viewing Kahlan when she’s on her knees. Kahlan finally takes the hint, bowing her head again as she lowers.

“I thought you were smarter, Kahlan. Surely by now you know there’s more to power than physicality and, yet, you keep trying to beat Cara by playing Cara’s game. Cara’s trying to beat you by playing your game, all the while, Dahlia proves herself over and over again, beating you both..” she pauses, licking her lips as Kahlan peels down her leather pants and the cool air blows over the heat between her thighs. “By wrapping you both around her little finger.”

Kahlan shakes her head. “That’s..”

“Not true?” Denna gazes down, stepping out of her leathers. “What’s your last thought at night? Who’s face do you crave to see first in the morning? Dahlia could never best either you or Cara in a fight. She knows she doesn’t have to. By making sure she is all the two of you can think about. While you and Cara think like squabbling soldiers, Dahlia‘s thinking like a general.”

Lips pursing tight, the anger building, Kahlan rises to her feet. She’d been played for a fool. By someone she.. No, Mord’Sith do not ‘care’, for no one and nothing but Lord Rahl. Her hand reaches for the Agiel no longer on her hip. “How do I win?”

Denna licks her lips, slowly, seductively, fingers working on the buckles of Kahlan’s collar.

“I could tell you,” Denna purrs and Kahlan swallows hard, realizing she won’t be leaving Denna’s quarters tonight. “Or..” Denna’s pushing, pulling, Kahlan flopping as Denna throws her onto the mattress and pounces. “I could show you.”

**

There’s the slightest limp in Kahlan’s step as she trudges wearily back to her quarters. Cara fixates on it immediately.

“Sister Kahlan,” she snarls, arms folding over her chest as she leans a shoulder to the wall. “Are you well? You look.. weak.”

And there’s a moment, where Kahlan’s fingers twitch and she thinks about bringing her hand to her Agiel. Then, Denna’s words are whispering again in Kahlan’s ears. Kahlan stills her fingers, quelling the urge to see her Agiel wipe the smirk from Cara’s face, choosing instead to stretch her lips into a smile.

“I think,” she approaches, the limp gone, replaced with pure swagger. “The word you’re looking for is sated.”

“I’m more familiar with that word than you think,” Cara sneers back. She pulls off a glove, lasciviously draws two fingers into her mouth, pulling them out with a wet pop. “Sated,” she purrs. “Tastes like a certain flower. A rose? No,” she tilts her head as if in deep thought, eyes staring up at the wall. “A violet?” She pulls her fingers between her lips again and, as she pulls them back out, brings her eyes to Kahlan’s. “A Dahlia.”

Cara tenses in anticipation as Kahlan’s eyes narrow and the brunette steps closer. She’s expecting a fight, just itching for it. And of all the things she expects from Kahlan, Cara never expects this - Kahlan’s hand on her wrist, lifting it upwards, pink lips wrapping around Cara’s fingers and pulling them into her mouth.

Kahlan giggles, swirling her tongue around Cara’s fingers, watching the confusion color Cara’s eyes. She pulls back, Cara’s fingers glistening with Kahlan’s spit as they’re pulled out. “Yes,” Kahlan husks. “Definitely a Dahlia. Question is..” Kahlan leans closer, both hands sliding down Cara’s stomach, tugging at the loop on Cara’s belt. “Are the petals of your bloom just as sweet?”

Kahlan closes in, crashing their lips together. Cara’s still tense, still uncertain but her body’s already warming, confusion melting under the building heat of desire. Kahlan opens her mouth, presses her tongue hard against Cara’s lips, demanding acquiescence, submission. The war still rages as this new battle begins because Cara does not submit.

The fist in Kahlan’s hair is almost immediate, yanking Kahlan’s head back. Kahlan yelps, Cara jams her tongue into Kahlan’s opened mouth. The moan is instinctual, the visceral thrill of being dominated. Cara misinterprets Kahlan’s moan as submission and Kahlan lets her. Lets Cara place her hands on Kahlan’s shoulders and roughly push down. With her gloved fingers, deftly, skillfully, Kahlan‘s working on Cara’s belt, peeling, yanking at Cara’s leathers.

Leathers bunched at the knees, the insides of Cara’s thighs already glistening with wetness and the fist is back in Kahlan’s hair. Kahlan plunges, mouthing Cara’s sex. She slathers her tongue as Cara rolls her hips, Cara already groaning, growling. Kahlan can’t quite believe they haven’t actually done this before, because Cara‘s just dripping wet, feverishly warm and ripened fruit swollen.

Kahlan lifts her hand, gloved fingers squeezing through Cara’s barely opened thighs. Cara grunts and Kahlan can hear Cara’s head smack against the wall as she thrusts two fingers hard and deep into Cara.

And Kahlan understands now, Denna’s words, how power and domination doesn’t always mean being on top. How Dahlia played them both by being so eager to be the one on her knees, and how Kahlan and Cara would do anything to have her there.

She looks up, with eyes coy and demure like Dahlia always does. Like she doesn’t know she’s making Cara come completely unraveled. Like she’s asking for permission to pull Cara’s clit harder between her lips, to thrust her fingers knuckles deep.

Cara’s mouth goes slack, the scream choked in the back of her throat as the paroxysm takes her over. She bucks and twitches, body tensing to keep her knees from going completely out from under her. And still Kahlan suckles and thrusts because she wants Cara to *make* her stop, to beg with the hand still threading tight in Kahlan’s hair. The act of domination that’s anything but.

“Kahlan..” Cara croaks weakly. “That’s.. enough.”

Fingers withdrawing, Kahlan can’t help but give one more flick with her tongue just to watch Cara twitch one more time. She rises to her feet. Cara flushed and panting and staring at Kahlan like she’s in a daze. And Kahlan licks her fingers clean before wiping her mouth with the back of a hand. She leans back in, lips to Cara’s, the fading taste of Dahlia mixing with the fresh taste of Cara.

“Are you..” Kahlan adds a little stammer, the slight bowing of her head. “Sated? Because I can continue if you like.”

The confusion in Cara’s eyes returns but Cara’s never been one to think first with any organ above her waist. Her hands are on the swell of Kahlan’s hips as she juts her own out, grinding slowly. “I do like. But..” Cara quickly places a hand to Kahlan’s throat, fingers tightening. “What game are you playing?”

Kahlan tenses, face flickering with anger. Cara, apparently, smarter than she looks. “No game. I was with Mistress Denna last night..” she relaxes a little, like she’s submitting. “I heard words of Lord Rahl seeking a new favorite and..” she lets her voice trail off, eyes darting to the floor.

The grip on Kahlan’s throat eases, the wheels in Cara’s mind spinning. “Me?” Cara practically shudders at the revelation. She’s staring blankly, thinking of the possibilities even as her eyes go dark. “Is that why you’re here, dirtying your knees?”

Kahlan forces the blush to creep onto her cheeks. “Yes.”

“I’ll think about it,” Cara growls, shoving Kahlan away. “After you learn how to sate me properly. In *your* quarters.”

Kahlan says nothing, merely bows her head as Cara stalks away, readjusting her leathers. She never sees the darkening of Kahlan’s eyes, or the self-satisfied smirk on her lips, the taste of victory on her tongue as thick and heady as the taste of Cara.

**

It doesn’t take Dahlia long to notice the shifting winds around her. How Kahlan has become cold and Cara has become distant, disinterested. How they walk together and how Kahlan is always a half step behind.

Despite all their training, they are still human, still prone to gossip. And it’s not long before Dahlia hears the whispers and rumors that Sister Cara has finally tamed Sister Kahlan, though no one knows exactly how.

But, it’s not the words of her fellow Sisters Dahlia pays attention to, it’s the eyes of her elders. She’s always known they were watching, evaluating, deciding. In the battle of Cara, Kahlan and Dahlia, it was always Dahlia their eyes fell upon, the slightest look of respect.

Not anymore.

It’s evening meal. Dahlia’s already at her place at the table, the place where she now sits with Cara because Cara has earned the right to no longer sit with the newer recruits. Cara has yet to arrive. Kahlan has yet to arrive.

There’s the titter of conversation within the room that always seems to happen when Kahlan and Cara enter. Dahlia can’t help but turn towards the entrance, where Cara stands looking the slightest bit flushed and definitely sated. A look Dahlia knows well because she’s put that look on Cara’s face many times before.

They enter the room, the whispers increase, the unanswered question of exactly how Sister Cara tamed Sister Kahlan. It’s not them who interest Dahlia, it’s her elder Sisters. She looks at their eyes, follows their gazes and Dahlia feels her stomach twist because they’re definitely not looking at Cara with respect.

They’re looking at Kahlan.

Dahlia watches, sees the almost imperceptible nods of heads between Kahlan and Sister Denna. And then, Kahlan turns her eyes to Dahlia. Dahlia notices the slight narrowing of Kahlan’s eyes, the upturn of her lips into a self-satisfied smirk and all Dahlia can do is nod her head in acquiescence, in respect.

The war still wages but, she knows, this battle has been lost. And it will take Dahlia awhile to think of a way to regain the advantage. Dahlia could never best Kahlan in battle but she does have secrets. The one in particular she’s kept closest to her chest. The secret of how Kahlan’s eyes swirl with black at the point of orgasm, how magic flows from her, how it feels like a million hot needles rippling over one’s flesh. Because Dahlia’s heard the rumors of just what might flow through Sister Kahlan’s veins. And only Dahlia knows the rumors are true.

So, Dahlia smiles politely. Says nothing as Cara sits across from her and Kahlan sits at Cara’s side. They are Sisters. They are rivals and Dahlia knows if she’s patient, a little more calculating..

She will be the one to win this war.

END


End file.
